


Sunstruck

by Mews1945



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-04
Updated: 2005-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mews1945/pseuds/Mews1945
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The southern sun is hotter than Frodo realizes and he suffers sunstroke and is cared for by Aragorn and Arwen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunstruck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Febobe](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Febobe).



Aragorn beckoned Pippin to him, and the smallest Knight of the Realm came trotting over to the King, his face revealing his trepidation.

"Yes, my Lord?" Pippin's words were hesitant.

"Have you any idea where Frodo might be?" Aragorn asked, keeping his voice level with difficulty. "I ask little of him, but when I invite him to share a meal with my Queen and me, I expect him to arrive on time."

Pippin fidgeted, too much a hobbit to keep his nervousness hidden. "I. . .think he said he would be in the garden, my Lord. He had a new book he'd found in the archives."

"A book." Aragorn gripped the arm of his chair, staring at the food on the table, food which was rapidly becoming inedible, due to the cooling of hot dishes and the warming of cold ones. He turned his attention back to Pippin. "Go and see if he is there, and fetch him if he is."

Pippin saluted, turned smartly on his heel, and hurried out of the King's private dining room. Aragorn sighed, and looked up as his new wife put her cool hand on his arm, leaning toward him.

"Do not be angry with Frodo, husband," she said softly, so that the servants would not hear. Her voice was as sweet as the sound of water purling in a clear brook. She smiled, her gray eyes soft. "He is not deliberately rude, you know that."

"No, but he is thoughtless when he allows himself to become engrossed in a book. I had hoped to have an hour to converse with him. Is it so great a thing to ask, Arwen? I have so little time for pleasurable pursuits these days."

"It is not so great a thing to ask," she answered gently. "Of any except the Ringbearer. I think we must be more forgiving of Frodo than of others. We know he suffered greatly, and that he still has not recovered his strength."

Aragorn's brief annoyance with Frodo vanished as he considered her words. "You are right, wife," he said. "I have allowed myself to become embroiled in affairs of state, and have somehow transferred my resentment against the endless trivialities of governing onto Frodo, simply because he is behaving like a hobbit."

They looked up as Pippin came running back to them, not pausing at the door, but hurrying straight to Aragorn's side.

"It's Frodo," Pippin said, panting. "Something is wrong."

Aragorn had once been known as "Strider" and he displayed the reason for that name as he rose and left the dining room, his steps long and swift, so that Pippin had to run as fast as he could to keep up, and Arwen, moving more gracefully, was left behind. The King traversed the long corridor that led from the dining room to the atrium where Legolas and Sam had worked together to create a beautiful garden filled with flowering plants, small, fruit-bearing trees, sweeps of green lawn, and here and there a bench or a chair, some placed in sun, and some in shade.

Frodo had chosen a bench in the sunlight, perhaps because he was so often cold since his ordeal. He had evidently fallen asleep there, nodding over his book. He had slumped over so that he half-lay on his side, his legs stretched toward the ground, but his feet dangling several inches above the grass. His face was flushed at the cheeks, but otherwise so pale it appeared colorless, and his breathing was harsh and rapid. He moaned when Aragorn kneeled down to shake his shoulder gently, but he did not come awake.

"What is it, my Lord?" Pippin had arrived, breathing in gasps as he bent to look into his cousin's face. "Is he ill?

"Perhaps it is only too much sun," Aragorn said worriedly, placing his hand on Frodo's brow. His skin was hot and dry. He murmured senseless words and tried to draw away from the King's hand.

Arwen joined them as Aragorn lifted the Ringbearer in his arms and turned toward the Houses of Healing, many lengths away.

"No, Aragorn," she said. "Bring him inside to our quarters where we may care for him."

She led the way, a tall, gliding figure in pale blue silk, and Aragorn followed her, carrying the Ringbearer's limp body, while Pippin trotted along beside him, anxiously trying to catch a glimpse of Frodo's face.

In the royal bedchamber, Arwen had turned back the coverlet on their great, soft bed by the time Aragorn entered. Aragorn laid Frodo down on the snowy sheet. With quick, dexterous fingers, he unbuttoned Frodo's waistcoat and shirt and slipped them off, noting the heat in the small body beneath his hands, and seeing, with a pang that Frodo's ribs were still visible under the spare layer of flesh.

"He needs water," he said, without looking up, all his attention on Frodo, who whimpered and struggled to escape as he was undressed. "It is all right, Frodo, it is Strider. I have you."

"Will he be all right, Strider?" Pippin whispered, standing at his side, his wide green eyes fixed on his cousin's face.

"I believe he will, Pippin. He did not realize how hot this southern sun can be. It prostrated him before he realized he was becoming overheated. I think a cool bath and some cold orange juice will help. And," he added, looking again at those protruding ribs. "I think a small dish of strawberry cream is in order. Will you go to the kitchen and ask to have a pitcher of juice and a serving of the strawberry cream sent to my chamber? And have the attendants bring in a small tub filled with cool water."

"Right away, my Lord." But, before he went, Pippin clasped Frodo's hand tightly in his own and stroked it with his other hand. "You'll be fine, Frodo," he whispered.

Arwen had summoned one of her maids and had the girl bring a cool damp cloth from the bath next door. She seated herself in her tapestry-covered armchair and held out her arms.

"Bring Frodo to me, Aragorn."

He had finished removing Frodo's trousers, leaving him dressed only in his linen smallclothes. He knew how embarrassed Frodo would be to find himself in such circumstances in the presence of the Queen. But Frodo was still murmuring and confused, and only whimpered again when Aragorn lifted him up and carried him over to Arwen, who took him on her lap and cradled him with her arm, then softly pressed the cool cloth to his forehead and his cheeks and lips. She looked up at Aragorn and smiled tenderly.

"How small he is," she said. "I can barely feel his weight in my arms. It is a great wonder, Aragorn, that this little one was able to accomplish such mighty deeds. We must never forget that. He deserves nothing but honor and love from us."

Aragorn knelt beside her, and took Frodo's hand in his, studying the delicate face, relieved when the great blue eyes opened and gazed back at him in bewilderment. He stroked Frodo's cheek, and the Ringbearer recognized his touch and leaned trustingly into it, trying to smile.

"Aragorn? I. . .oh, dear, I was supposed to come to luncheon. . ."

"Shh, Frodo, never mind. You have become a bit ill, and we must take care of you."

"I am. . .so warm. My head feels so odd."

"We will have you feeling much better in a very short time," Aragorn promised, as the door opened and two attendants entered, bearing a child-sized bathing tub that was half-filled with water. Frodo stared, blinked, and looked dismayed.

"It will be all right, Frodo. It is only cool water. We will bathe you and that will help you to feel better."

"Must I?" Frodo whispered. "It looks so cold."

"We will add a bit of hot water from the cauldron in the bathing room," Aragorn said, and gestured to one of the attendants, who hurried into the bathing chamber and returned a few moments later with a pot of steaming water, which he emptied into the tub. He carried two large towels over his arm, and he laid them across the dressing table stool, bowed, and withdrew, along with the other servant.

Aragorn took Frodo from Arwen and lifted him into the tub, crouching down beside it as the hobbit moaned and shivered, huddling himself into a small bundle of utter misery in the barely warmed water.

"I know," Aragorn said gently, clasping his hand on Frodo's shoulder to comfort him. "You will only have to remain in the tub for a little while, and then I will put you into bed, and you will feel much better."

Frodo shuddered and said, "I think I shall be frozen before then." He looked up and a wave of color rose in his face. He tried to sink lower into the water. Aragorn raised his eyes, smiling. Arwen had come close, and Frodo, characteristically, would rather drown and freeze than be seen by a lady when he was less than properly dressed.

"Do not be embarrassed, Frodo." she said. "I go to see about the juice and the food we ordered." She glided to the door and went out, and Frodo released his breath in a sigh. He was still flushed the color of a pink rose.

Aragorn leaned him back in the water, one hand supporting him, and Frodo shivered and gasped, but offered no resistance when the King scooped up water in his hand and poured it over his chest and shoulders.

"I think..." he chattered. "That you are p-punishing me for b-being late to luncheon."

"Never," Aragorn assured him. He smiled. "Mind you, I was irritated with you. I thought you had gone and forgotten everything except your book."

Frodo looked abashed. "Well. . .it was a very interesting book." He glanced worriedly toward the door. "May I get out now? Before the Queen returns?"

Aragorn nodded, smiling. "Yes, I think so. You are a bit cooler now and the juice will be enough to bring you back to yourself."

He helped Frodo to stand, then lifted him out of the tub, stood him on his feet, and wrapped him in one of the towels, rubbing his back and arms, then his legs, briskly to dry them. He stripped Frodo's undergarment from him, and wrapped him in the second towel.

"My clothes?" Frodo whispered, with another worried glance toward the door.

"I will have Pippin fetch you a nightshirt, and I think I will keep you here tonight, where I can watch over you."

"But I. . .where will I sleep, Aragorn?" Frodo whispered.

"In the bed, between Arwen and myself," the King replied. "Where you will be warm and quite comfortable, I assure you. The bed is large enough for at least one small hobbit to sleep between us."

Frodo's blush became even more brilliant, but he made no further protest, and when Aragorn wrapped him in a soft blanket, then tucked him into the bed, he sighed and rubbed his cheek against the satin of the pillowslip.

"It feels so soft, " he said. "And it smells lovely."

Arwen returned then, and Pippin with her, bearing a tray upon which was a decanter, its sides beaded with moisture. The tray also held a small dish containing a pink, creamy dessert for which Frodo had often expressed a great liking. The Queen seated herself on the bed beside Frodo and drew him into her lap again, at which he turned scarlet. She proceeded to feed him the strawberry cream with a small silver spoon. Frodo, at first too embarrassed to look at her, gradually relaxed and leaned against her, shivering once in a while as he ate the cool, creamy dessert. He sighed when it was all eaten, and made no move to pull himself away from his carer.

Pippin had watched, envy plain on his face, and Aragorn was hard pressed to keep himself from laughing as he requested that his knight fetch a nightshirt and a dressing gown from Frodo's room.

Soon, Frodo was dressed in his soft white nightshirt and had been warmly tucked into the bed, with Arwen leaning against her pillows beside him. He willingly accepted the glass of icey cold juice that the Queen held for him. When he had drunk it all, Arwen bent and kissed his forehead and smiled at Aragorn.

"He is much cooler now," she said. "It was only a bit of sun sickness. But we will keep him here, where we may watch over him. I think it would be best if you remained here with us, husband, and let your advisors deal with the arrangements for dinner. There is nothing so pressing, is there, that it must have your attention for the rest of this day and night?"

Aragorn considered. There were many things that called for his attention, but none that could not wait for the morrow. For now, he would give himself to things that were far more important.

"Pippin," he said. "Go and inform Lord Faramir that he is to preside in my place at the table this evening, and that I shall be unavailable except in the most dire of circumstances. And that I shall be most displeased if I am disturbed before the morning."

Pippin grinned cheekily and saluted, before he left the room, closing the door quite firmly behind him.

Aragorn took off his robe and his boots, laid aside his sword and his leather jerkin, and lay down on the bed beside Frodo, who blinked at him in amazement.

"I think," Aragorn said. "That I shall tell you a tale of my days as a Ranger of the North, desperate and bold. And we shall have our dinner brought to us here."

Frodo settled himself more deeply into the softness of the bed. He was quite contentedly holding the hand of the most beautiful creature ever seen in Middle Earth. He looked expectantly at Aragorn.

"I do hope," he said. "That you will order more strawberry cream."

 

END


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